Star Trek: Damn, Possessive Hobgoblins
by IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: A woman hits on Jim at a bar, Spock acts like a caveman, and Bones has to witness it all. Stupid captains and their damn husbands. Bones' POV. See warnings inside.


**STAR TREK**

**DAMN, POSSESSIVE HOBGOBLINS**

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**Author's Note:**

**Pairing: **James T. Kirk/Spock

**Warnings: **Mild language, mild sexual content, possessive!Spock, implied submissive!Jim, jealousy, possibly OOC!Spock

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, CBS and Paramount. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

* * *

Jim and Bones were sitting in a bar on _Abarnath XII Space-station_, so it shouldn't have been surprising that there was a woman hitting on the infamous Captain of the _Enterprise_. Well, Jim found it _kind of _surprising, because in his experience women preferred that Jim hit on _them _before they made their feelings known. Or they hit on him when they were drunk.

The woman wasn't drunk. She'd introduced herself as Lieutenant Jas'meann Clayton, and had immediately plopped herself down at Jim and Bones' small booth seconds after the two friends had taken their seats. Her flirting hadn't been subtle in the slightest, and Bones had resorted from eye-rolls and sighing to outright staring at her in disbelief.

Jim had been fine, in all honesty. Flirting was as natural to him as breathing, Bones knew (hell, all of Starfleet _knew_), but that didn't mean he'd always follow through on his teasing words. When the woman started petting Jim's arm, his hair, his _thigh_, that was when Jim got very uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Lieutenant Clayton had disappeared to the bathroom- or to get a drink, Bones wasn't sure- and the Captain immediately turned on his CMO. 'What the hell is happening?'

'Well, Jimmy,' Bones smirked over his mug of Abarnath ale, 'it seems that you've got an admirer.'

Jim rolled his eyes. 'I've met plenty of my _admirers_, Bones. And none of them touch my _thigh_.'

Bones snorted into his drink, and Jim whined. 'Seriously?' the older man laughed. 'Since when do you get all uncomfortable over a woman hitting on you?'

'I don't care about the flirting,' Jim said. 'It's the _touching _that I can't stand.'

'Why not?'

Jim didn't answer, but really, Bones didn't need one. Ever since Jim had started a relationship with his First Officer- which Bones _understood_, but still didn't like thinking about- Jim's flirting had decreased by 63.44 percent. Spock's words, not Bones', because he honestly didn't give a flying pig about how frequently Jim flirted.

Anyway, Jim's flirting had slowed, but his touching of others hadn't until Spock had entered _pon farr_. That was when Jim and Spock had bonded and become Vulcan-married and _t-hy-la _or whatever the hell the word was. Apparently Spock didn't like it when other people touched his mate, and therefore _Jim _didn't like it when other people touched him. Or Spock, either. And Bones knew from personal experience how territorial Spock could get over what he deemed "his". And he had a temper, that one. _"Perfect Vulcan Control" my ass_, Bones thought in amusement.

'Bones, help me!' Jim's whining brought the doctor out of his thoughts. Jim looked uncomfortable, squirming in his chair, and his drink had barely been touched since the waiter had brought it over.

'What do you want _me _to do?' Bones asked, taking another swig of his own. The Abarnites made some damn fine ale.

'I dunno!' Jim's hands flailed as he spoke. 'Switch seats with me before she gets back!'

'And you think, what, that she won't notice we've swapped?'

Jim frowned. '_You _start hitting on her while I slip away.'

'She'd ignore me. And you're sittin' on the inside of the booth.'

Jim pouted. 'Kill her.'

'No,' Bones snorted.

'Why _not_?' Jim, again, whined.

'Hey, whine at her,' Bones suggested, 'it makes you sound like a toddler, and maybe she's not into underage men.'

'I hate you,' Jim's pout deepened and he slumped back in his seat.

'Just tell 'er you're in a relationship,' Bones told his Captain.

'I _did_,' Jim sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, making the dirty-blonde locks stick up. 'She said, "Oh, that's nice. So are your quarters on the space-station nice? I bet you have a big bed".'

Bones cracked up laughing, which Jim clearly didn't appreciate, but the doctor _clearly _didn't care.

Before Bones could make any other unhelpful suggestions, Lieutenant Clayton returned and slid into the booth beside Jim, smiling at him. Bones had to admit that she was hot; creamy skin, brunette hair that fell down to her shoulders in curls, and a tight-fitted blue dress that showed off all her assets.

But, like Bones had seen many times, Jim just wasn't interested. Bones was a bit curious, he could admit (only to himself, and Scotty after a few cups of the engineer's home-made whiskey); just what the hell did Spock _do _in the bedroom that made every other creature uninteresting to Jim?

Jim still liked to notice people, but it was more in a "yeah, they're good looking, I can appreciate it" kind of way, rather than his old "they're hot, I'd totally do them" way. The latter was only for Spock; Spock in his science blues, Spock in his dress uniform, Spock half-naked that time he'd fallen into a river trying to save Jim, and, of course, the time that Spock and Jim had been caught about to fuck on the observation deck, Spock dressed in his old instructor's uniform. Jim had seemed to _really _like Spock in _that_.

Lieutenant Clayton was curled up against Jim again, batting her eyelashes and stroking his arm. How she couldn't see that Jim was _very _uninterested and _very _uncomfortable was beyond Bones. Maybe she'd ingested something that screwed with her ability to freakin' _see_. There were some alien drinks out there that really messed people up.

Jim looked really, really, _really _uncomfortable, like that time Ambassador Sarek had caught Jim giving Spock Vulcan-kisses on the bridge. No, actually, it was worse. Bones sighed and drained his mug, pushing it aside when he was done. If Jim was _that _uncomfortable and too bloody polite to flat-out push the woman away, then Bones supposed that he could help out. Jim would owe him. Like, visit-Medbay-on-time-instead-of-making-your-lover-drag-you-in kind of favour.

'Lieutenant Clayton?' he asked, and was ignored as Clayton once again commented on the _sparkly blue of your lovely eyes_. Seriously? 'Lieutenant Clayton?' Bones tried again, and tapped the hand that wasn't feeling Jim up under the table.

He finally caught her attention, and her eyes were irritated only briefly before she smiled. 'Yes?'

Bones doubted that she'd caught his name when he'd tried to introduce himself earlier. 'What ship did you say you were assigned to again?'

Her irritation flickered again, but she answered; 'The _Amadeus Mozart_.'

'Ah, good ship,' Bones said, even though he'd never heard of the goddamn thing. Who picked the names, anyway? Bones would totally name his the _Hypospray_. Only because, after serving with Jim for four years, he'd taken to carrying three on his person at all times. 'I looked into that before being assigned to the _Enterprise_.'

'Fascinating,' Clayton murmured, and promptly turned back to Jim. _Of course_. 'Is it true that you were assigned the _Enterprise _as soon as you graduated? Because I was sure that nobody could rise to the rank of captain that quickly.'

Jim's eyebrows twitched, but he managed to answer with a neutral tone. 'Ah, yeah, well, everyone knows what happened there. It isn't exactly a secret.'

'Of course,' Clayton beamed, 'it's still just so...'

'Fascinating?' Bones grunted, but she ignored him. Jim sent Bones his favourite "save me, Bones, you're my only hope!" eyes, which Bones usually ignored. Because, usually, it was during a meeting when Spock was being extra logical because his lover had pissed him off.

'I hope _I _get assigned to the _Enterprise _after this tour,' Clayton was saying. 'The _Mozart _will be returning to Earth around the same time as the _Enterprise_, and I'm hoping to be promoted to Lieutenant-Commander. Do you think you'll be needing another scientist?'

Ah, she was a scientist. You'd think she'd have a better eye for detail.

'Erm,' Jim coughed and squirmed slightly to the left. Clayton, of course, followed, like Jim had his own gravitational pull. Well, he seemed to, but only around Spock. 'Maybe?' Jim offered tentatively. 'I mean, it's not up to me, is it? The applications have to go through the Admiralty, and then they'll be sent to me. And if nobody asks for a reassignment when we return to Earth, then there'll be no spots.'

'Are you sure?' Clayton pouted. She couldn't pull it off as easily as Jim. Bones nearly groaned. Spending all his time with the kid had messed up his brain. 'I have a lot of... _skills_.' She practically purred the last word, and Jim jolted like he'd been hypo'd. Bones assumed that she'd squeezed _something_.

Ewe.

'Um, I'm sure you do,' Jim replied, voice tense, 'but really, I-'

Bones didn't hear anymore, because movement from the left caught his eyes. He turned to see the rather large crowd that had packed themselves into the bar part like their lives depended on it. And it might have, if the _very _pissed off look on the Vulcan's face was anything to go by.

Again, Spock had anger issues; Bones would suggest a programme if Spock wouldn't rip his head off for suggesting it.

Spock was wearing what most Starfleet officers unofficially referred to as their "short-leave uniforms"; the standard black trousers, boots, and black under-shirt. He was also wearing a black Starfleet jacket, unzipped for once and flapping open as he stormed across the room.

Make that a very, _very _pissed off Vulcan. The look reminded Bones of when Spock had strangled Jim on the bridge after the destruction of Vulcan. Unlike that time, however, the look was aimed at a fairly innocent humanoid who couldn't get out of it by actually being Spock's _t'hy'la_.

Bones wondered if there was any point in warning Lieutenant Clayton before Spock arrived to strangle her, but figured that she'd just ignore him like she had been for the past half-hour. So he leaned back, grabbed Jim's discarded ale, and settled in for a show. Thankfully he'd brought his med bag with him; if this _did _get nasty, he could at least stabilise Lieutenant Clayton while Spock and Jim disappeared to have possessive-sex.

Ewe.

Spock practically stomped over to the booth before coming to a halt between Bones, Jim and Lieutenant Clayton, arms at his side, fists clenched instead of held behind his back. When neither Jim or Clayton noticed him, Spock loudly cleared his throat.

Jim jumped at the sound, head whipping around and entire face lighting up like an over-excited puppy. Bones was okay with Jim and Spock's relationship for three reasons; 1) Spock always put Jim's life before his own, 2) Spock made Jim _happy_, and 3) Jim made _Spock _happy, which made the ship happy, and made _Bones _happy because it cut down on the time he spent consoling panicking crew-members who thought that Spock was going to murder them in his sleep. He just had that affect on people.

'Captain,' Spock spoke. 'Doctor McCoy,' he added, dark brown eyes briefly flicking to Bones before resting on Jim once more.

'Yeah, hi,' Bones muttered.

'Hi there,' Lieutenant Clayton smiled at him. 'I'm-'

'I do not care,' Spock interrupted. Bones snorted into his beer.

Lieutenant Clayton raised her eyebrows. 'Excuse me?' she asked, affecting an air of confusion over annoyance.

'I do not care who you are,' Spock said, eyes back on her, dark and angry and way, _way _pissed off. 'What I _care _about is your current position. You are, to use words my Captain prefers, "plastered to his side". I will only ask this politely _once_; please remove yourself from Captain Kirk.'

Clayton blinked at him, clearly still confused. 'What?'

'_Remove _yourself from my bond-mate's side, or I will be forced to do so for you.' And, yep, that was a growl. Spock rarely showed how possessive he was this obviously, because he really was a master at controlling his emotions. But where Jim was concerned, Spock often threw logic out the window.

'Bond-mate?' Clayton asked and looked at Jim.

'I _did _tell you that I was in a relationship,' Jim chimed in, still sporting a goofy grin thanks to his First Officer.

The gooey-marshmellow feelings were going to kill McCoy one day, he was sure of it.

'Yeah, but... with _him_?' Clayton asked, laughing shortly. 'He's a Vulcan.'

Spock's left eyebrow went up; not good. 'An astute observation, Miss,' he said, voice growly and still pissy.

'Well... _Vulcan_,' Clayton repeated, like that'd help. Bones wondered how long she had to live if she didn't remove her hand from Jim's arm. 'I thought your race mated logically.'

'Most do,' Spock said, eyebrow dropping, eyes narrowing, 'however, we are also capable of mating for _love_, and I am only half-Vulcan. Now, _remove yourself from my bond-mate_.'

There was no mistaking the territorial, pissed off tone in Spock's voice now, and Clayton wisely removed her hand from Jim, but didn't move away. 'Seriously?' she asked again. 'The infamous Jim Kirk _bonded_?'

'We have been together three years, bonded for two, and Starfleet aware of our relationship for two point nine three years. I am telling you this so that you will understand why I have to resort to physical violence if you do not _move away from him immediately_.'

She slid right fast away from Jim then, face pale and eyes wide as Spock glared her down. And Spock _did _have an impressive glare, Bones could admit. Only when drunk. Or dying.

'I suggest that you remember this encounter the next time you wish to pursue someone who is clearly not interested in your feelings, and stated on no less than fourteen occasions that he was in a committed relationship. Next time you might not meet a race that are as capable as I am at holding back their more primitive urges.'

With those parting words, Spock looked at Jim, glare still in place.

'Jim, you are leaving with me, now.'

'Yeah,' Jim grinned, 'yeah, okay!'

He practically fell out of the booth, and half atop Lieutenant Clayton when she tried to get out of the way. Spock growled audibly when Jim helped her steady herself, and Jim quickly removed his hand, head bent in submission.

_Ewe, ewe, eeewwweee_... Bones already knew about their sex life thanks to their many, many physicals; he didn't need any _more _proof that Jim was a push over when it came to Spock... _literally_.

'Good,' Spock said and raised a hand. He wrapped it around the back of Jim's neck, and Jim moaned- _double ewe_- but Spock's face was made of stone. He used his grip on Jim to steer him out of the pub, and the audience that they had accumulated at Spock's arrival hurried aside once more.

They all stared after the married couple as Spock marched Jim from the bar, the metal door hissing shut behind them.

They crowd were quick to get back to their drinks and friends and whatever the hell else normal people did when on leave. Bones didn't even know anymore; he spent his time fighting Spock for visitation rights over Jim and stitching Jim and Spock back together after whatever sex-capade or stupid act they'd gotten into over the short period of time.

He took a large gulp of his almost empty ale and looked at Lieutenant Clayton, who was sitting on the edge of the seat opposite, face still white, eyes wide, one hand clutched to the tight dress stretched over her dress.

'Well,' he mused, 'that went well.'

She shot him a look which he didn't understand in the slightest, and honestly didn't care about. 'I think it could have gone better,' she huffed.

Bones laughed. 'Yeah, _or _Spock coulda dragged you off o' Jim with his bare hands. He doesn't mind gettin' physical, or touchin' anyone, when Jim's involved. Believe me.'

Clayton shook her head, clearly trying to get herself together, and Bones finished his drink and stood. He knew that Scotty was still on the ship- Chekov, Sulu and Uhura, too- maybe he'd go join them for a drink and some poker.

'Chin up, Lieutenant,' he told the woman, who looked up at him, 'next time just don't hit on a Vulcan's bond-mate. They take that shit seriously.'

She glared openly, and Bones shook his head as he left the bar.

The walk to the _Enterprise _didn't take that long; Bones had been offered quarters on the space-station, but had declined. What the hell did he need another room for, when his quarters on he ship were perfectly fine? Jim always took the offered rooms so that he and Spock could fuck without the crew overhearing them. Which happened more than Bones was comfortable with. Poor, traumatised ensigns.

_Poor, traumatised Len, _he thought when he got close to the hanger that would beam him back aboard the _Enterprise_; Spock had Jim pressed up against the outer wall to the right, one leg between Jim's, hands holding Jim's wrists pinned above his head. His face was buried in Jim's neck, and from all the moaning and whining Jim was doing, his teeth and tongue were busy.

As Bones got closer- 'cause he wanted to get to the ship, _damn it_, and wasn't changing his plans just 'cause Jim and Spock couldn't fucking wait a minute- he heard Jim moan, and Spock hiss.

'Who do you belong to?' Spock demanded and ground his thigh harder against Jim. Jim arched up, head tiled, and whimpered. '_Who_?'

'Y-You,' Jim gasped. 'You, always you, _t'hy'la_.'

Spock growled in satisfaction and slammed his mouth against Jim's, letting his hands go so that Jim could mess up that perfect Vulcan bowl-cut.

Bones cleared his throat loudly when he got close enough for them to hear him, but neither did; so he put his fingers to his lips and whistled.

Spock snarled violently as he turned towards Bones, and Bones wondered if he was entering _pon farr_ again, or if all Vulcans were that possessive of their bond-mates.

'B-Bones?' Jim gasped; he was panting, flushed, absolutely _wrecked_.

_One day I will strangle you, Jim, _Bones promised himself. He was glad Spock couldn't hear him; dude looked wild.

'Given Spock's, ah... _situation_,' Bones decided on being polite, 'get the fuck to your quarters, or back to the ship. 'Cause if anyone sees ya and interrupts, Spock's liable to murder 'em.' Okay, polite-_ish_. Whatever.

Spock didn't appear to care about Bones' advice, because he'd gone back to sucking another mark into Jim's neck. Jim, though, nodded.

'Yeah, that's- _ah_- that's a... g-good idea.' He tugged on Spock's hair, Spock growled, Jim pulled _harder_, and the Vulcan finally looked up. 'Bed,' Jim said. Spock frowned. '_Bed_,' the Captain repeated. He pushed his ass off the wall, grinding himself against Spock, and Bones watched a shiver pass through Spock's entire body. 'Don't want anyone to see me, yeah?' Jim said.

Spock blinked a bit at that, and then nodded and stepped back. Not far, though, and when Jim pushed himself off the wall, Spock wrapped a firm hand around the Captain's wrist and tugged him towards the entrance of the hanger.

Bones followed at a safe distance- at _least _three metres from the crazy, possessive hobgoblin- and watched as Spock growled orders at the two technicians working the transport console.

'Energise!' Spock snarled when Bones stopped next to the console, and the young ensign jumped to do as told, fingers shaking over the controls.

'Bones?' Jim asked.

'Ah, think I'll take the next ride up,' Bones said. _Not gettin' anywhere near that pointy-eared bastard when he's in _that _mood_, Bones thought. Honestly, Jim had no sense of self-preservation.

'Oh... 'kay,' Jim beamed. Spock was staring at Jim heatedly, and Bones rolled his eyes as the two were energised and disappeared from view.

Bones sighed and stepped up onto the platform himself. 'To the USS _Enterprise_,' he asked. Honestly, why didn't they have proper docks for this kind of thing? Like, two hangers; one aboard, one here, that could open and let crew-members step from one place to the next. Why all the _warping_?

'Fucking Starfleet,' he grunted. 'Energise.'

The ensign, having calmed a bit now that the crazy alien was gone, nodded and flicked a few switches. Bones was glad to find all his limbs intact and his blood still flowing through his veins and not boiling when he reached the _Enterprise_. Ensigns Michaels and Ka-el-eeth were manning the transporter tonight, and both nodded respectably when Bones stepped off the transporter.

'Erm, Doctor McCoy?' Ka-el-eeth asked, whiskers twitched slightly.

'Yes, Ensign?' he asked, still heading for the door.

'Are the Captain and Commander okay?' Michaels asked instead.

'Yeah,' Bones laughed, 'but a woman tried to hit on the Captain.'

Michaels winced and Ka-el-eeth nodded seriously. 'To touch another's mate is disrespectful,' he said, 'and highly offence to Vulcans if not permitted by one or both mates.'

'Tell me about it,' Bones muttered and exited the room. He pulled out his communicator as he did and found Scotty's number. 'Hey, Scotty?'

'_Yeah, Doc?_' Scotty's thick accent came from the device.

'You playing poker tonight?' Bones asked.

'_Aye_,' the engineer replied. '_Got Sulu and Chekov with me, too, if yeh wantin' some company._'

'Aye,' Bones echoed. 'I just had to deal with a pouting Captain and pissed off Vulcan.'

'_Ze Commander does not like it when others touch iz mate,_' Checkov's voice joined the conversation.

'_I think it's funny._' And that was Sulu.

'Oh, yeah, _hilarious_,' Bones grunted.

'_Come on down teh me quarters, Doctor_!' Scotty said- though it sounded like an order. '_Tell us all over a pint o' good ol' Scottish drink. Made a fresh batch jus' this mornin'._'

'Bless you, Lieutenant-Commander Scott,' Bones said.

Scotty laughed boisterously. '_Get yeh arse down 'ere_.'

With that the comm flicked off, and Bones stowed it away. That's what he needed to forget all the flirting and jealous!Spock and his superior officers/friends sucking face; good company, great alcohol, and maybe a few extra credits after a round of poker.

He reached the turbolift and had to wait a few seconds for it to reach his deck and open. He wished he'd chosen another one.

'Un-fucking-believable!' he snapped.

Jim was on the floor, Spock atop him, and their shirts were gone. Where the _hell_...?

'Your quarters are _two decks up, Jim_!' he near-screeched.

'Er... sorry?' Jim grinned, not sorry in the slightest.

Spock, of course, just growled, leapt to his feet, and slammed the button to close the doors.

Bones groaned and rubbed his face, deciding to find _another _lift and grab that one.

_Fuck Jim and his damn, possessive hobgoblin_, he thought as he started walking.

* * *

{The End}

* * *

**Author's Note: **Erm... I'm not sure where this came from, although I LOVE possessive!Spock. And I've been reading Kirk/Spock non-stop ever since my brother bought me the two Star Trek movies... and the first season of TOS. I now fully understand just how awesome Kirk and Spock are.

So... I'm sorry if this was bad, it's my first Star Trek fic. Hopefully it wasn't too awful.

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}


End file.
